


The Squib Wolf

by PaleNoFace



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Adopted Stiles Stilinski, Born Werewolf Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Canon-Typical Violence, Full Shift Werewolves, M/M, McCall Pack, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Slow To Update, Stiles Stilinski Gets Bitten, Stiles is a Failwolf, Werewolf Courting, Werewolf Culture, Werewolf Melissa McCall, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski, like super slow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-04-30 22:45:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14507124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaleNoFace/pseuds/PaleNoFace
Summary: When Stiles finds a dead girl in the preserve, he doesn't immediately realize that it's the end of his peaceful life. And yet here he is, trying to keep his pack safe from a feral Alpha and a stranger -but handsome- Beta when he's not even a functionnal wolf. Why did his life take such a 90° turn ?





	1. The Beggining Of The End

Despite being in a relative hurry, Melissa knocked gently at the door of her boys, sparing their sensitive ears so early in the morning. She knew, despite a good attempt at keeping quiet, that they went to bed late from excitement the night before because of the new season of lacrosse. But it wasn't the only reason : no one could tell really, but the air was sparkling with anticipation, as if the entire land was readying itself for movement. Melissa, with her pack-leader position, could physically feel it and it was slowly wearing on her nerves. Something was changing, and she didn't knew if it was good or bad. Exhaling deeply, annoyed, she knocked harder.

 

"Scott, Stiles, get up ! You're gonna be late for school !"

 

A frantic rumble resonated on the other side of the door, followed by a loud thud, a victorious laugh and a muffled shout.

 

"Motherfu-!"

 

The door opened so fast that she only had enough time to step aside, avoiding a collision with a hilarious Scott that immediately rushed for the bathroom. She carefully peeked inside, only to find her other son sprawled on the floor of the room, his feet entangled in his sheets.

 

"You okay over there, Stiles ?" she asked playfully.  
"Oh yeah, peachy," he growled. "Scott just thought of a very inventive tactic to be the first in the shower, as you can see," he added, vaguely waving at his captive ankles.  
"I see that. Well, once you're untangled, get down, breakfast is on the table. I'm leaving, try to get to school in time."  
"Oh, Ma, can we use..?" Stiles asked timidly, still upside down. "Please ?"  
"Only if you're careful," she surrendered after a couple of seconds, unable to resist his puppy eyes - a thing he unfortunately learned from Scott.

 

While he pumped his fists in the air in victory, she closed the door and got down the stairs, checking for both her phone and her keys, then she grabbed her lunch and disappeared in her car, directed to the hospital. A few minutes later, Scott and Stiles swapped places, one showering while the other wolfed the rest of the breakfast. When they finally got out of the house, they had only ten minutes before the bell and ended running to the car and driving - almost - above the speed limitation. They parked at school with two minutes left and high-fived.

 

"Dude, that's like our record !" Scott grinned.  
"I'm pretty sure our record was one thirty or so," Stiles replied as he distractly shook his sore hand.

 

They walked in with the rest of the students as the bell rang and entered their first class. Stiles couldn't help himself but discreetly sniffing everything and catched Scott's ears slightly tilting to catch every sound around.

 

"I can't believe how much I missed this," he whispered to his brother who smiled back.  
"I know ! I feel like rediscovering everything again !"  
"Silence !" the professor called as she walked in. "Good morning everyone. As you probably know, Mister Jenkins had an accident last week. He's okay, he's okay, but in the meantime I'll be the one making class to you. My name is Mrs Lawrence, and I think I reconize most of you from previous years, yes, hi, hello Miss Martin, I saw you, yes, hi Misters McCall, oh both of you this time, Mister Heere, Miss Beck and Miss Adams, hello, yes, yes, wonderful, what a good class. I have good hopes that we'll be able to catch up with the program. Anyway, let's take roll."

 

As she called every student, Scott suddently straightened in his chair, turned towards the corridor. While Stiles didn't had a hearing as good as Scott's, he was still able to catch the conversation in the principal's office : there was a new student waiting there for her timetable that was pesting about not finding a pen. She finally entered the class, followed by the rincipal and introduced by Mrs Lawrence as Allison Argent. Next to him, Scott's heartbeat accelerated.

 

"Bro, calm down," Stiles hissed between his teeth, earning a lovestruck look.  
"I think I'm in love."

 

Stiles groaned and rolled his eyes. The rest of the year would be long.

 

 

If Stiles had any advice to give to other werewolves, it was to always, always trust their guts. There was something trully visceral about listening to the wolf part of their being, something it was essential to believe in. Even as a squib, he had enough wolf in him to tell when the air was shifting and enough reflexes to run away from danger. But Stiles loved danger. So when on the way back to their house he caught the scent of an unknown were, all his instincts screamed at him to get the fuck away and tell Melissa, but his functional brain would short-circuit itself rather than get himself safe.

 

He looked at his watch and then at the school's main doors, waiting impatiently for Scott to come out already, but his brother had his hands and mind occupied with Allison Argent, newcomer in Beacon Hills and already targeted as "best friend material" by the almighty Lydia Martin. Stiles shook his head before he could start ranting about the beautiful - and desperately popular - genius that Lydia was and chose instead to start walking. Scott could take the car home - it still was Stiles' car, but he trusted him enough to let him drive Roscoe. He shouldered his backpack and started running, following the lead.

 

The scent, unknown yet oddly familiar, sent him deep in the preserve, a place where he usually went only for full moons, and most importantly, never alone. Now, by himself at nightfall, he was seriously reconsidering some of his life choices. Breath short from the sprint, it took him a few minutes to hear anything that wasn't his heartbeat. He was an outdoorsy boy and despite his lack of coordination, he was good at hiking on long distances : he knew that at his speed, he would be on the other side of the preserve by morning, but he sincerely hoped he didn't have to search so long. Whatever he was following couldn't be far, not with how fresh the lead was. Not with how fast Stiles was tracking it. Be damned his curiosity, he was determined to find out.

 

Until he literally stumbled upon a body. Or, for the sake of an accurate description, half of a body. The stench of dried blood took him at the throat and he felt like he was about to throw up. In front of him, lying in dead leaves and dirt, was the bottom half of a human.

 

"Shit. Shit, oh my god, okay, don't puke, don't puke," he said out loud, hoping to convince himself. "Okay, keep calm, what do we do when we find a dead body in the forest ? We call the police, of course we call the police."

 

He typed the number of the police station with shaky hands and explained blankly what he found to an astonished Jordan Parrish that fortunately knew him well enough to tell it wasn't a prank. Right after, Stiles' first reflex was to call his mom, who answered after the second ring. Melissa was well aware that her boys knew her shifts by heart and when they called during work time, it had to be important.

 

"Stiles, what's up ?" she greeted, warmth and worry seeping through the phone.  
"Ma, I found a body," he blurted, feeling sick again.  
"A dead body ?" she hissed, suddently very concerned. "Did you call the police ?"  
"I did, Ma, and I'm waiting for them, but I don't- What do I do ?"  
"Don't move. I'm going to pick you up. Is Scott with you ?"  
"No, last time I saw him he was at school."  
"Okay, good. Can you tell me where you are ?"

 

She stayed on the phone all the way to the preserve, much to Stiles' relief, and had called Scott with her second phone to tell him to drive straight home. By the time she arrived on the crime scene, three police cars were already parked. Stiles, as soon as he smelled her, throwed himself in her arms ; she squeezed him, hard, making sure he wasn't hurt.

 

"Are you okay ?" she asked, gold bleeding imperceptibly in her pupils.

 

He flashed back, for a second, just long enough for her to know he was only shaken. Jordan having already taken his deposition, she drove them home as fast as she could. Scott slammed the door open before they could even get completely out of the car and shrieked, panic clear in his puppy-like eyes :

 

"What the _fuck_ happened ?"

 

The two teens sat close on the couch while Melissa made a beeline to the kitchen to make them something hot to drink. Stiles took a deep breath and told what happened from the very beginning. The weird smell, the run in the preserve, the body in decomposition, the phone calls. Scott and Melissa frowned a few times whenever Stiles' explanations were blury. They talked about it during dinner, making hypothesis over what could have possibly happened.

 

"It could have been a bear, y'know ?" Stiles insisted, barely understandable around his mouthful of chicken. "If she was chewed in half, it have to be a big animal."  
"Ew, gross, man," Scott winced, earning a chuckle from their mother.  
"What ? I'm being realistic here !"  
"What about a cougar ?" she intervened gently. "I know for a fact that there are mountain lions in the preserve."

 

The landline suddently rang, shutting any reply Stiles already had ready. She stood to take it and walked outside, out of range from her werewolf sons. The two young betas shared a worried look, waiting in silence until she walked back in, visibly disturbed.

 

"It was Deaton. Apparently, the police came to him to identify what attacked the girl. According to him, it's the work of a _canis lupus_."

 

It suddently clicked in Stiles' brain. Of course. Of fucking course, he has been so blind. His nervous chuckle turned into a hysterical laugh, taking him a few moments to deal with the news. Scott, as usual, seemed clueless.

 

"I don't- I don't get it, they aren't any wolves in California."  
"It's because you're thinking of _canis lupus lupus_ , Scotty," Stiles sighed, feeling suddently very, very tired. "We're talking about _canis lupus lycanis_."

 

Stiles could almost see the gears turning inside of his brother's head. When finally the conclusion was clear, color drenched instantly from his face.

 

"Oh no."


	2. Learn From The Past

Melissa had to go back to work, leaving her sons with the strict instruction of staying inside for the night. That didn't stop them from brainstorming, though, and it was exactly what they did for the next hour.

 

"So, in short, we need to first know where it is, and then find a way to either kill it or neutralize it long enough for some form of authority to come pick it up and take care of it," Stiles said as he was pacing in the livingroom, chewing mindlessly on his thumb nail. "The best thing to do right now is to call everyone and see if they saw, heard or smelled anything."  
"Already on it," Scott replied, his fingers flying on his phone screen. "I'll call Ebb and Akim, you check on the cousins, Claire and Jonathan ?"

 

Stiles hummed in response and unsheathed his own phone from his pocket, clicking on one of the numbers in speed dial as he changed room not to talk over Scott. Fortunately, the line was picked up after the fourth ring.

 

"Hey Jonathan," he chirped, hoping to sound casual.  
"What do you want, McCall ?" the voice on the other side groaned sleepily.  
"Did you hear about the dead body in the preserve ?"

 

He could almost picture Jonathan pinching his nose in annoyance.

 

"Of fucking course I do, Stiles. The news is spreeding everywhere in town."  
"Okay cool, so apparently that person got turned into a werewolf's midnight snack, that's why I wondered if your demon could maybe possibly keep us in touch with the Hellhole ?"  
"...Wait what," Jonathan's breath suddently itched. "One of you got rabbid ?"  
"No, not us, that's the problem."  
"So basically, you're telling me that there is a feral werewolf outside that half-chewed a camper ?"  
"Heeh, more or less."  
"Fuck, man. What does that mean for the rest of us ?"  
"For you and your buddy, I don't know," Stiles admitted honestly. "For the shapeshifters, if they keep a low profile, they might go unnoticed. And the two changelings of the south district are out of our territory so they'll probably be untouched by the whole thing. The problem is that if it's an Alpha out there..." he trailed off.  
"Yeah, that's bad, I get it. Okay, I'll try to convince Sock to move his ass and talk to the boss. I'll snoop around for you and see if I can find anything. ...Shit, why does this always happen in this town ?"

 

His grunt got muffled by something and Stiles realized that he probably faceplanted in his pillow. He rolled his eyes. What a dramaqueen.

 

"Thanks Jonathan, I owe you one."  
"You better," the boy grumbled and hung up the phone.

 

Stiles shifted uncomfortably. Jonathan was a good informer, and the fact that he was pestered by his own personnal demon made him a qualitative relayer between the living realm and Hell, but he really was one of a kind. The guy was basically a social outcast. He took a deep breah and then typed the second number, knowing it by heart : the phone only rang once before it picked up.

 

"You," a gravely voice said at the other end of the line.  
"Hello Stan."  
"Calling me on my cellphone ? It must be the Apocalypse all over again."  
"We got an intruder."  
"Say no more. The net will look out."  
"Great. Good night Stan."  
"Good night Lassie," the zombie sniggered.  
"Oh and Stan !" Stiles snapped suddently, "Try to keep the Wendigo out of this mess, the last thing we need is two hungry monsters unleashed in town."  
"The Wendigo does what it wants. If it decides to go and dig out your secret stash of bones, it ain't my problem, boy."

 

Stiles grumbled as he pressed the end call button, cursing the existence of dog jokes - or more precisely, the existence of people other than him using dog jokes. He typed the next number and waited.

 

"Good evening Claire !"  
"Sup Stiles ?" the witch answered, sounding far from the phone.  
"You heard about the dead body too, I guess ?"  
"Well of course buddy," she chuckled softly. "They say that you're the one that discovered ?"  
"Yeah..." he shuddered before shaking his head. "But that's not why I'm calling you."  
"Oh ?"  
"Mh. Apparently the girl died from a werewolf attack."  
"Oh shit," she suddently sounded way closer, having probably picked up the phone. "One of your Pack ?"  
"Of course not, but that's precisely our problem. That means that we have at least one random werewolf on our territory, maybe more if it's a whole Pack," Stiles quickly explained, his hands shooting in the air as he talked. "Could you... Would you please keep an eye and an ear open for us ?"  
"Stiles, I... You know my history with territory wars," she sighed heavily. "I'll try, okay ? But if it comes too close to my shop, I'll get the fuck out of town until it's settled."  
"Okay," he replied, his throat squeezing at the mere idea of losing such a powerful ally. "Okay, sure, no problem. Keep yourself safe, alright ?"  
"Okay. You too, kid. Be careful out there."

 

Stiles huffed quietly and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. He trully was grateful for the connections his Pack forged over the years with the rest of the magical community of Beacon Hills, even if he wasn't personally in great terms with some of them. At least, when their security was threatened, they had enough common sense to collaborate. Whoever and wherever this motherfucker was, it would have dozens of eyes glued on it. He stumped his way back to the livingroom where his brother was still glued to the phone, a half-chewed pencil flying around his fingers. Bad sign, Stiles noted : if even Scott was fidgetting, the whole situation was probably really bad.

 

"Hu-uh. Yeah. Yeah okay. Hm. Yeah. Okay, good to know, I'll call you back."  
"Who was that ?" Stiles wanted to know, peeking at the notes now scattered on the coffee table, and Scott groaned loudly as he took his head in his hands.  
"So basically," he sighed, straightening himself in the sofa as Stiles dropped in the loveseat. "Our Chupacabra refuses to put a toe in town as long as the problem isn't solved because she doesn't want to 'deal with more of your wolfish nonsense'..."  
"That racist," Stiles muttered, feeling inappropriately offended.  
"... and the chimera expects protection from us if he gets involved but, of course, none of us three can provide it. Any luck on your side ?"  
"Plenty. The witch will help as long as it stays away from her shop, the haunted boy will snitch and the cousins will report anything that happened downtown."

 

While he was talking, he got up again and looked for the map they usually kept in the room. He found it under a pile of bills and unfolded it on the table, clicking the red pen that was conveniently hanging around. Knowing what he was doing, Scott grabbed the green pen and started demarcating the limits of their territory while Stiles marked the zones they had under surveillance. Three minutes later, they stepped back to look at their work.

 

"The school, the downtown, the hospital and the pedestrian area are covered by our friends, which means we have to make up for all the remaining territory," he made a large movement over the left part of the map. "Assuming that Deaton can protect himself and that the Sheriff and Danny's family know how to deal with 'unusual' creatures, this spot, this one and that one," he listed, covering the map in red, "are basically under control too."  
"So we still have to check this whole chunk by ourselves," Scott completed, looking straight to the preserve and the suburban area.  
"Rock paper scissors ?" Stiles offered.

 

Of course, Stiles lost the game and 'won' the largest part. When she came home, Melissa felt worried about her sons' plan at first, but she eventually abdicated in front of the numerous (and fair) arguments they displayed. But, to their surprise, once they were done explaining everything, the older Beta made them sit back on the couch as she sat in the loveseat herself. After a long moment, she rubbed her face and stared at them, as if she was seeing them clearly for the first time.

 

"What do you know about this territory ?" she asked them out of the blue, making the boys glancing at each other in incomprehension.  
"Well... We've been leaving in it for five years..." Scott said, spoking carefully.  
"And we got here because of Deaton," Stiles frowned as he tried hard to remember. "Because we needed someone to replace Hannah, right ? And Deaton was aviable."  
"Right," Melissa nodded. "And also because it was easier for everyone if we leaved the Lockwood Pack's territory."  
"I like the Lockwoods. They were nice," Scott mumbled for himself.  
"Renting a territory was no longer an option with you two growing up," she replied, a glint of something flashing in her eyes. "Plus, we allowed Deaton to connect again with the community. An Emissary without a Pack..."  
"... Is a dead Emissary," they replied automatically, having heard this sentence way too many times.  
"I suppose you're trying to make us ask why he was packless in the first place ?" Stiles shifted on the couch.  
"Smart boy," she smiled gently. "There was another Pack before us here, the Hale Pack. Deaton's original one," she precised. "Do you remember the burned house in the preserve ?"  
"It was the Pack House," Scott realized.  
"Yes. There was a great fire six years ago, and the major part of them died that day, except for three of them, two of the kids and one of the adults."  
"Oh wait, I know that one ! Peter Hale, fulltime resident at the nursing home, catatonic state. That guy is kind of a legend among the patients," Stiles said as he gently elbowed his brother with a knowing look.  
"How- You know what, I won't even ask how you know that," Melissa shook her head with a smile. "But yes, that's the one. The two others were Laura Hale and her younger brother. They moved to New York after the fire. A few months later we arrived Laura heard of us was and contacted me to make sure I knew what I was doing, which to be honest was a legitimate concern."  
"I mean, a Beta Pack composed by one adult and two pups ? I would have had my doubts too if I were her," Scott admitted.  
"Back to our problem at hand. Two weeks ago, Deaton went to look at the Nemeton because of, I quote him, 'weird pulsations in the land's magic'. We ended calling Laura to know if it ever happened before and she was supposed to arrive four days ago."  
"I don't like the turn this is taking," Stiles warned, starting to feel sick again. "Was that..?"  
"Yes, Stiles," Melissa sighed and rubbed her eyes. "I believe it's Laura you found out in the woods."

 

Stiles was definitely going to bee sick.


	3. The Wolf Next Door

The next day, the McCall kids sniffed the air with even more carefulness than usual on their way to school. Perched on their bikes with their lacrosse stuff strapped on their back, they rode slowly as they took in every detail of the landscape, trying to find out anything odd, but Beacon seemed the same as ever. Stiles had to admit he was a little bit disappointed : he thought that after finding a dead body the whole city would be boiling with activity, but everyone for once was minding their own business. Truly frustrating, in his opinion.

 

They parked their bikes on the school lot as usual, only to find that Allison was already waiting for them - or, more probable, waiting for Scott and Lydia. Stiles rolled his eyes fondly at the not-so-subtle gaze the two were exchanging and decided to give them some space. He navigated the dangerous hallways, all of his senses alert, ready to prove to himself that he was able to be his own wolf. He noticed Jonathan in the distance, his headphones shoved on his head. They waved discretly at each other and Jonathan shook his head, indicating that everything was clear. He exhaled. At least his network was efficient.

 

As the day moves on, Stiles starts to feel the tension of the previous day dissipate sometime around lunch, which he skipped in order to leave Scott alone with Allison and use that time to go to the library. He was determined to dig up as much as he could about their defective Nemeton, the Hale fire, Laura Hale and pretty much everything he could.

 

He typed the name of a famous supernatural chat room in the search engine and logged in. As he scrolled down in his notifications from weres and magical creatures from all over the world, the one room he was looking for caught his eye. He clicked on it and waited for the discussion to load. There was this girl from Seattle, native from Ireland, that knew pretty much everything one wanted to know about regular Pack movements. He checked if she was online and started typing. Half an hour later, he had compiled as much as he could about the Hale Pack, from their ancestors to their contemporary descendants. Enough for him to go to Deaton and drop a motherfluffer folder full of printed chatlogs and supernatural-wiki pages on his counter.

 

The rest of the day suddently rushed and it was lacrosse practice in the blink of an eye. Scott was jumping up and down like and excited puppy - and honestly, Stiles couldn't blame him - while Jackson was showing off on the other end of the field, where Allison and Lydia were sitting. Stiles' gaze lingered for a second on the strawberry-blonde girl, releasing a deep frustrated sigh. That girl would have been the perfect mate for him, if it hadn't been for her bad taste in boys. Jackson was an asshole, and Lydia was a queen : it was just so weird that their relationship was working, in his opinion. Maybe he had to turn into a douchebag himself to have a chance to catch her eye ?

 

Probably not, but whatever. He could still dream.

 

As Coach Finstock shouted to Danny to get his ass back in the goal, the McCalls brothers got online behind Lahey and right in front of Jackson. Well, Stiles was in front of Jackson, and Scott was right before Stiles. Which meant, they both got pushed out of the way when Jackson decided they didn't go as fast as he liked. Scott almost didn't bulge when their shoulders collided, but he moved out of the way just enough to catch Stiles that was falling sideways.

 

"Watch it, asshat," they both growled simultaneously, Stiles getting swiftly back on his feet.  
"Don't test me, freakshow," Jackson replied before turning towards the rest of the line.  
"Bitch," Stiles muttered.  
"Jerk," Scott added, quietly enough that only his brother caught, making him smirk.  
"Alright gents, time to get this team moving !" Coach called as he clapped loudly, making both of the boys wince. "Whitemore, you're first, so you're done ! McCalls, both of you, right after. We have no time for slowpokes. Yes, Greenberg, I'm talking about you !"

 

Obviously, being werewolves helping, it took them less than five minutes to prove themselves and the rest of the session was used to let the new players try and get to their level. It was when Scott looked up from his bag to say something to one of his team-mates that he finally smelled it. Color drained from his face and he grabbed Stiles by the arm.

 

"Wha-"  
"Stiles, tell me you smell them."

 

The latter raised his head and looked around, nostrils flaring discreetly, and frowned. Just before Scott could look around, however, his brother's hand tightened on his bicep.

 

"Don't. Move. If they're close enough for me to pick up their scent, they're close enough to see us," he said firmly through a fake smile.  
"Do we call Mom ?" Scott replied as he smiled too, his eyes flickering around the field.  
"Or..."  
"Stiles, no."  
"You don't even know what I was about to say !" he cried, the corners of his mouth falling immediately.  
"You want to go after them to confront them," Scott crossed his arms and replied, because he knew his brother far too well. "Whoever that is, they're fucking strong, and we're both tired."  
"Scotty, there are two of us," Stiles pleaded, but then corrected when the other gave him a pointed look, "Yeah, okay, one and a half, but still ! Maybe we could convince him to leave our territory without much of a fight."

 

For a tense pair of seconds, Scott didn't say anything and simply stared at him, but he eventually sighed and Stiles knew the game was won.

 

"We're gonna be soooo in trouble," Scott muttered as he followed his brother behind the bleachers after getting rid of the other half of their equipment.

 

Half a minute later, by dint of sniffing everything, they found the spot where the stranger was standing only instants before. They looked around and listened carefully, but their mysterious guest seemed to have disappeared. The track he left behind, however, was strong and steady, leading them straight to the preserve without much of a doubt. The two brothers shared a look, wondering how a total stranger could have possibly known about the St Louis Street shortcut, but followed the lead anyway.

 

They walked for a while in complete silence, except for occasional footfalls on the dry leaves. The forest was anormally quiet for a tuesday evening. It almost felt like the landscape was holding back its breath, waiting for something to happen. Something like a rogue werewolf falling on them when they expected it the less, or a hidden circle of moutain ash under the leaves, or a blood-thirsty lost hunter, or... Or menacing eyebrows. That worked too.

 

"What are you two doing here ?" the newcomer roared, teeth bare as he appeared from behind a tree.

 

Scott immediately shifted and roared back twice as loud ; Stiles winced and clawed out by reflex. None of them backed off, not even leaving a centimeter of their respective ground. And, God, the McCalls were two, but it looked like they were short on twenty people. The man in front of them was scary - the hot kind of scary : like the kind of serial killer Stiles would happily let murder him. First thing first, he was massive : he was maybe only a few centimeters taller than Stiles himself, but there was something imposing about him that made the boy feeling small. And, well, there was the fact that the man was objectively nice to look at, Stiles wasn't one to cloud the issue. Before he could fall into that rabbit hole of ADD, Stiles shook himself and forced his claws back as he raised hands as a sign of peace.

 

"Okay, time out big boys, let's not rip each other's throats just yet !"

 

Scott reluctantly shifted back, his eyes still warily looking at the man in the leather jacket - who in the twenty-first century could even wear a leather jacket without looking ridiculous ? Well, he could and he did. And surprisingly well, with that.

 

"What are you doing here ?" Scott growled, echoing the sentence before.  
"I could ask you the same question, kids."  
"This isn't gonna work if we don't try a little harder," Stiles sing-sang nervously.  
"No, he's the one trespassing the border, he's the one provoking havoc on our territory," Scott snapped; "I'm not gonna play nice with someone who endangers my Pack."  
" _Your_ territory ?" the other scoffed, his eyebrows meeting half-way before shooting up to the hairline. "This is the Hale territory, pup, not whatever playground you think it is."

 

Stiles had to physically restrain Scott to avoid any diplomatic incident, and it took him several second to stop his brother from completely wolfing out on the stranger. That wasn't so much of a stranger, in the end.

 

"You're Derek Hale, right ? From New York ?" he panted. "That's probably why you didn't know about the change."  
"What change ?" Derek growled back and frowned harder - if that was even physically possible.  
"A year after you left - Scott, for fuck sake, snap out of it !- we kinda took the control of the zone, so this is not Hale's land anymore, it's McCall's."  
"Nonsense," Derek grunted and suddently jumped past them, disappearing through the trees.

 

The brothers looked in the direction he took, dumbfounded, before turning to each other. Scott pressed his fingers against his eyes and Stiles sighed.

 

"What the hell just happened ?"  
"Remind me to never take you out on diplomatic missions anymore."  
"Can we call Mom now ?"  
"If she starts screaming, I'm taking none of the fault."  
"Stiles, you're the reason why we met Derek Hale in the first place."  
"I said what I said."


End file.
